


Running My Mouth

by editingatwork



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Hooking up, M/M, but kent doesn't recognize the other hockey player he's bragging to, not quite mistaken identity, smug alexei mashkov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Kent Parson is drunk in a noisy bar in Vegas and has been trying to charm Alexei’s pants off for the last hour, via drinks and  lengthy exposition about how hockey works and how good he is at it. Alexei hasn’t had the heart to tell him that he flew in yesterday with the Providence Falconers.





	

Kent Parson is drunk in a noisy bar in Vegas, late on a Sunday night. He’s been trying to charm Alexei’s pants off for the last hour via drinks and increasingly lengthy exposition about how hockey works, and how good he is at it. Alexei hasn’t had the heart to tell him that he flew in yesterday with the Providence Falconers, whom the Aces will be playing tomorrow.

“Shootouts are my thing,” Kent is saying. He’s got one elbow on the bar to prop himself up with, his fingers messing up his own hair. He’s flushed and leaning into Alexei’s space. It’s probably supposed to be subtle and seductive but he’s drunk enough that it’s coming off as obvious and awkward. Alexei, equally drunk, is enamored. Kent keeps talking. “See, the trick is you gotta--you can’t telegrif--telephone--show ‘em where you’re coming in. Me, I weave left--” His free hand comes up and sways to his right. “Then right--” Now to the left. “And then left again, and I--see, if I’m having a good day, I’ll take a shot at the halfway point, ‘cause they never, they don’t expect that.”

Alexei is pretty sure any goalie in the NHL would expect that of Kent Parson. Alexei widens his eyes and leans in fractionally. “Really? Is not that a risk, take shot at so far?”

Kent’s grin becomes a leer. “I’ve got  _great hands_ ,” he says.

“Hands important, in hockey?”

“Hell yeah. If a guy’s good with his stick, we say he’s got soft hands.” Kent leans in further. Alexei can smell the vodka on his breath, which he likes, because those are the drinks Alexei bought for him. “I’ve got  _real_  soft hands.”

Alexei has to try twice before he catches Kent’s hand in his. He smooths his fingers up Kent’s palm. Kent licks his lips and shifts in his seat, legs falling a bit wide to accommodate a very particular discomfort. Alexei keeps up the act of ignorance and says, “Your hands very rough.”

“They can be, if you like that,” Kent says. He drops his hand to Alexei’s knee and runs it slowly up. He gives a little groan when he feels the muscle there.

Alexei grins. “And your mouth? Is soft or rough?”

Kent smirks and gives Alexei’s thigh a squeeze, a bit too hard. “How ‘bout we get out of here, gorgeous, and I’ll show you how good my hands and mouth can be?”

Alexei answers him with a kiss.

\--

Alexei is jolted out of a dead sleep by an alarm. He groans and rolls over, taking the pillow with him so as to cover his ears and muffle the shriek. Already he has a headache.

There’s an answering groan of pain from behind him.

“Off,” Alexei says from under the pillow, probably in English but there’s no way to be sure. “Turn it off!”

Several excruciating seconds later, the alarm shuts off. The abrupt silence rings in Alexei’s ears, like a thousand pinballs careening inside his skull. He groans again. He has to play a  _game_  today.

“Shit,” a voice says, and it’s not Alexei. “Shit, shit, fuck.” Blankets rustle; the mattress shifts. Alexei hears Kent him climb out of bed and stumble into the bathroom. Moments later the footsteps return, and there’s a low whine as closet doors are flung open.

“What time is it?” Alexei asks from behind the pillow.

“Huh?”

“Time,” Alexei repeats. “What time is it?”

“Are you speaking  _Russian_?”

Apparently. He tries again. “What time is it?”

“Fucking nine forty-seven in the morning. Where the fuck are all my ties...?”

Alexei groans and releases the pillow. “ _Blyad_.” He kicks off the bed sheets and sits up. It makes the headache worse. “You have painkiller?”

“In the bathroom,” Kent says absentmindedly, still digging through his closet and cursing quietly.

Alexei finds the painkillers in the bathroom. He swallows two pills and several glasses of water. The pain still lingers but at least he knows it’ll go away. When he comes back into the bedroom, Kent has a dress shirt, slacks, and a jacket on his bed. The only thing he’s wearing is a pair of wrinkled boxers. His hair is sticking out at every conceivable angle and he’s got two ties in his hands. He’s frowning at both. Abruptly, he holds them up and demands, “Which do you like better?”

Alexei assesses them. “Green. Bring out your eyes.”

Kent checks his own eyes in the mirror hanging on the inside of his closet. “Yeah, sure.” He tosses the tie onto the bed, hooks his fingers over the hem of his boxers, and yanks them right off. Bare-ass naked, now.

Alexei whistles. Kent goes to rummage through his dresser for a fresh pair of briefs but he looks over his shoulder, grinning. “You like that, huh?”

Kent’s obviously in a hurry--and Alexei should be, too, he still has to get back to his hotel and get on the bus with his team--but he crosses the room, anyway, crowds Kent against the dresser. He’s careful to watch for any signs of discomfort or rejection but Kent throws his arms around Alexei’s neck and pulls him in bodily for a dirty kiss.

“Wait, no, fuck,” Kent says. “I’m late, I gotta--” He kisses Alexei again, all tongue and teeth. They’re both naked and tacky from the night before. Alexei barely remembers the night before, but his body is one hundred percent positive it was _good_.

“No, can’t.” Kent pushes him away and Alexei lets him. “God, I wish, but I gotta--I’m late.”

“For hockey game?” Alexei asks. He leaves Kent to pull on his clothes and goes to search for his own. All of it has been thrown on the floor. His shirt is a wrinkled mess and smells like a bar, and Kent.

“Guess you recognized me, huh?” Kent says.

“More like you tell me. Over and over again.”

Kent laughs. “What can I say? I’m a big fucking deal.”

“Very big,” Alexei agrees. His brain may be vague on the details but his ass remembers everything. “Very good at fucking.”

Kent has his undershirt on and is doing up the buttons on his dress shirt. He smiles disarmingly. “I don’t remember much, if I’m being honest.”

“Maybe we do again some time,” Alexei says, and fuck it, why not? Kent’s sexy and solid and a hilarious drunk. Alexei’s only regret from the night before is how fuzzy his memories are. He’d like to remember getting fucked as hard as it feels like he did.

“When? Aren’t you going back to Russia? I think I remember you saying you were going home tomorrow.”

“I am going home tomorrow,” Alexei agrees. He’s got his pants on, the fly still undone, giving him room to tuck in his shirt before he does up the button and belt. If he  _finds_  his belt, that is. “I’m not go home to Russia. I live on East Coast. You play hockey all over America, yes? You come to New England, you call me.”

Kent is wrestling with his tie and grinning. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. You got a phone number?”

They finish getting dressed and exchange numbers. Alexei only gives Kent his first name, because he’s waiting to see the penny drop later today on the ice.

“First name is for first date,” Alexei says as Kent sees him to the door. “Last name for second date.”

Kent chortles, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and tugging on his shoes. “And fucking’s for the third date, but we did that already. Your timeline is jacked.”

“Hm.” Alexei pulls him in by the belt buckle and kisses him. “You like.”

“Mm yeah I do.”

Minutes later, outside Kent’s apartment, Alexei hails a cab. They’ve been hands off since leaving the building, but Alexei thinks that anyone looking at the stupid smiles on their faces would know they hooked up.

“See you later,” Alexei says.

Kent grins and waves as Alexei’s cab races off.

\--

When the Falconers hit the ice, the Aces are already on it, warming up. Alexei’s got his helmet on but he sees the moment Kent takes notice of him. Their gazes lock, thirty feet away, and when Alexei licks his lips and winks, Kent drops his stick.

“Fuck!” Kent yells. His voice echoes around the stadium. Alexei snickers as he skates past. The other Aces converge on Kent, saying things like “Jesus Christ, Parse,” and “What the fuck, man?”

Kent ignores them and shouts, “You’re fucking dead, Mashkov!”

Alexei laughs, turns around and skates backwards. “Got a mouth on you, Parson! Is just game!” He rejoins his teammates. Thirdy is giving the Aces a narrow-eyed look. “Geez, man, what’d you do, kick his cat?”

Alexei shrugs, fighting a smile. “Kent Parson is a strange man.”

\--

Five hours later, the game is long over, the Aces have trounced the Falconers in an embarrassing 6-1, and Alexei Mashkov is pinning Kent Parson to the Aces captain’s own bedroom door.

Kent has been cussing him out since Alexei rang his doorbell and not even the roll of Alexei’s hips against Kent’s hard dick has gotten him to stop. Alexei would be concerned Kent actually means it if Kent didn’t have both hands on his ass and wasn’t viciously kissing Alexei like it’s a new form of checking.

“--fucking asshole,” Kent’s saying between kisses. “Acting like you don’t know jack shit about hockey, letting me run my mouth all night, fucking--” Kiss, bite, moan. “--encouraging me, shit, getting me so drunk and horny, I’m gonna fuck you outta your goddamn mind--”

“Yes, please,” Alexei says. He turns his head abruptly and lands a wet kiss on Kent’s cheek.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Kent mutters, and grabs him by the hips to push him towards the bed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Three weeks later, the Aces play the Falconers in Providence. The moment Alexei opens his door, Kent growls, “And another thing--” and jumps him.)
> 
> Join me in patater hell on [ tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
